Pulling Pigtails
by Prince Edwin
Summary: Harry's been avoiding Draco this year, tired of the fighting. When Draco finally corners him, Harry realises just why Draco's been teasing him for all of these years, and suddenly it's not just fighting he has to put up with. SLASH! Complete.
1. Pulling Pigtails

**Title:** Pulling Pigtails

**Author:** Prince Edwin

**Disclaimer: **The following is a work of fiction created by and for readers of the Harry Potter books. No copyright or trademark infringement was intended, and all of the characters, situations et c. belong to, though aren't limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc, as well as being the original fiction work of J. K. Rowling.

**Summery: **Harry's been avoiding Draco this year, tired of the fighting. When Draco finally corners him, Harry realises just why Draco's been teasing him for all of these years, and suddenly it's not just fighting he has to put up with. This story will contain SLASH with a HP/ DM pairing.

**A/N: **This will be a three-chaptered piece when completed, and I expect that it will be completed and posted by the twentieth of this month. I am hoping to post the second chapter on the fifteenth and the last on the twentieth, fates permitting. All reviews are welcomed and appreciated. All readers are welcome, too, but I can only truly apprecaite them when they speak up for themselves

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_Chapter One_

**Pulling Pigtails**

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"Potter! You scar-headed freak, come back here!" Draco Malfoy sprinted down the corridor after the retreating back of his nemesis of five years. He spun around the corner and found himself confronted with the top of Harry's head. 

Glancing down, he snorted at the small boy staring up at him from behind his glasses. Whirling around so quickly that Draco could not protest, Harry clipped Draco with the edge of his cloak before stalking off into a deserted classroom, slamming the door heavily behind him.

Ripping the door open with enough force that it swung back and bounced off the wall, Draco pelted into the room after him, still determined to finish this fight. He found Harry leaning against the teacher's desk at the front of the room, one leg crossed casually over the other.

"Yes, Malfoy? If you insist on following me, please do make a point of making it worth the effort," Harry's tone, though lightly sardonic, was quite calm, which only served to enrage Draco further.

"You! You… you little sod, you! Perhaps I fucking followed you because I haven't finished with you yet!" Draco threw his arms up, exasperated already, despite only sharing a room with the stupid Gryffindor for a few minutes.

"Strange, I hadn't realised you had started with me. I apologise for my interruption. Please continue with whatever it was you intended," Harry's face split into a sly grin as he swept his hand before himself, indicating that Draco was welcome to do whatever he liked. At Draco's open mouthed stare, Harry sighed, changing his tactic he spoke again, this time in an honest and tired voice.

"Listen, Malfoy, has it not occurred to you yet that _I've _finished with _you_?"

Draco's face twisted into several reactions as he struggled to control himself. "What do you mean? Why?" He almost sounded hurt, and Harry contemplated this reaction.

"Well," Harry began slowly. "Don't you think that we've grown out of this a bit?"

He was planning to elaborate, but Draco looked as though he had been struck suddenly, so he cut himself off to hear what Draco had to say.

"That's why you've been avoiding me! And why you've been ignoring me! It all makes sense now; you just didn't want to fight! And all this time I'd thought that I'd…" Draco trailed off suddenly, realising the peculiarity of both what he had said and what he had been about to say.

"Thought what, Malfoy? That you'd done something to upset me?" Harry was having a hard time controlling his laughter, which was bursting his lungs like over inflated balloons as he held it in. Draco, however, did not seem quite as amused.

Quite the contrary, in fact. An expression of comprehension had dawned on Draco's face as he understood why, in the two months since they had returned to Hogwarts for their sixth year, Harry had not spoken to him once. In fact, Harry had barely looked at him. Not that Draco had wanted Harry's stupid big green eyes all over him, but it had been strange to be ignored, even when he tried to start fights.

Now, however, seeing Harry's barely controlled laughter, Draco's dawning slid right off his face, stretching his brow into a furrowed frown instead, and pulling his lips down as it sank off his chin.

"Actually," Draco said, pointing his nose into the air distastefully at Harry's lack of manners, "I had rather hoped I had finally gotten rid of you." This was not entirely true, but Draco needed to drag his way back on top of this conversation.

"So much so that you came sprinting after me when you spotted me alone in a corridor and I still refused to acknowledge you, and then cornered me in a classroom?" Harry asked, his eyebrow arching in perfect imitation of a Slytherin.

Both of Draco's eyebrows shot up in response to seeing that expression on the perfect Gryffindor, but he refrained from questioning it as he tried to focus on what he had just been asked. Damn! He had a point with that one, and Draco couldn't think of an answer to regain the upper-hand.

"Well," he began, cogitating what best to say before continuing, "I wanted to know what was going on. If all my dreams had come true and you were finally going to leave me alone," Draco retorted. _Not bad,_ he thought. _Not particularly good, but derogatory enough, and delivered with just the right amount of spite._

Harry simply smiled at this, able to see through it. Suddenly, his smile vanished; he could see through it, but to what? Why did Draco actually follow him? It couldn't be an attack, or he would have done it by now. Peering at Draco suspiciously from beneath his fringe, Harry found that he was being watched attentively, as though Draco was trying to anticipate his next move. Sighing, Harry ran a hand over his face, using the other to fiddle with the untucked edge of his shirt.

Sensing Harry's agitation, Draco grew curious. "What's up, Potter?" Although his tone was far from amiable, it certainly didn't hold the malice it usually did. Mostly, he sounded genuinely interested, though not sympathetic.

"I am wondering, Malfoy, just why you followed me. Stupid Gryffindor I may be, but I know you well enough to tell when you are lying. You were lying when you said you wanted rid of me, and I want to know why you don't!" Harry statement, though partially muffled through his hand, which was still covering his face, was clear, and as he ended it, he raised his gaze to catch Draco's in the hope of seeing the answer.

Draco, whatever he had been expecting, had certainly not been expecting _that_. As Harry said it though, Draco realised that it was true, even as his instinct told him to protest.

His perfect composure lost, Draco could only stare at Harry, who was watching him curiously and patiently, allowing Draco the time to respond. Unable to respond as of yet, Draco took the time to study his nemesis for the first time this year, hoping that something in Harry's face or stance might give him the answer.

Beginning with an all over body sweep, Draco tugged his eyes from the messy top of Harry's head, to the irregularly small feet encased in scuffed shoes; it was not a long distance between the two. Draco snorted: exactly as he remembered, Harry had no sense of fashion or elegance. Another glance and Draco realised with a start that Harry really didn't need it. The messy black hair that remained unstyled still, after all of these years of his insulting it, looked quite _good_. Instead of simply looking as though Harry hadn't mastered the use of a comb yet, the way his hair fell over his eyes and knotted at the back simply made it look as though Harry had just returned from some tryst, his lover's hand pulling at the hair at his nape and causing the tangles there.

Draco was shocked at the boiling feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought this, but ignored it in favour of continuing his inspection. His eyes fell on Harry's face, those damnable eyes calmly watching him with such an intense colour of Slytherin green that it should have been corroding Harry's sockets to have them in his little Gryffindor head. But by the amused quirk of Harry's lip, it was clear that his eyes were not scorching the inside of his head, unless Harry was a closet masochist.

This sudden idea pulled a rush of blood to Draco's groin that he struggled to ignore. His eyes still on Harry's lips, he saw an image of them begging to be bitten, words spilling from the flushed lips to plead strong teeth to pull blood from Harry's pale neck…

Shaking his head slightly, as though to dislodge the thought from its position and tip it out of his ear, Draco told himself that the idea was impossible. _Harry Potter, Golden Boy of Gryffindor, getting off on pain. Yeah, right!_ But suddenly, the question was there, and Draco had never been so curious in all of his life.

He decided to distract himself slightly by addressing Harry again. "You want to know why I don't want rid of you?" he asked in a threatening tone, trying to imply that Harry would not like the answer. An easy bobbing of the head greeted his question, urging him to continue.

Unsure how to articulate his answer, but unable to think up a plausible outright lie, Draco began speaking uncertainly. "I guess, Potter, it is because I _haven't _finished with you yet, and I **never **leave things half done." Although his tone was strong, his words were still weak; he couldn't help but notice the innuendo behind them, and mixed with his previous thoughts, Draco was quickly beginning to question his sexual orientation. Being gay, Draco had long since accepted, but his sexuality being orientated towards a Gryffindor was a little much for him to handle. Not to mention _which _Gryffindor it happened to be orientated towards…

"Oh?" prompted Harry. When this failed to get a reply, he found himself asking, as he shrugged off his robe (damn, if it wasn't hot in this room), "What is it that you intend to do with me, Malfoy? Because I am beyond resistance now."

Draco recognised the truth in Harry's tired tone. He was beyond resistance; Draco could sink his fist into that pretty little face, and receive no retribution for it whatsoever. Harry did not want to fight. And strangely, Draco found that he didn't particularly want to fight either.

Harry had removed his robe with those words, and the meaning behind them could easily be what Draco was trying so hard to ignore, now that the thought had occurred and rooted in his head. Whether Harry had purposefully removed the robe to torture Draco, because he could see what Draco was thinking in wonderfully clear technicolour with those glittering eyes of his, or simply because he was warm, Draco did not know. Nor did he care. He simply acknowledged that it had happened, and that Harry's short sleeved shirt showed off the smooth, pale skin of his arms, and the toned muscles of his biceps.

There was something not right about the way Draco was thinking, but he wasn't quite sure what it was anymore. When he had come into this room, he had not wanted to touch Harry's lips, to nibble them, to bite them, just to see what reaction he would get. But Draco had forgotten why he was in the room and just kept asking himself _'Is the Gryffindor Golden Boy a masochist?'_

"You don't want to know what I intend to do with you," Draco stated, his voice oddly breathy, as though he was running out of breath simply because they kept falling out of his lips when he spoke. This drew another raised eyebrow from the Boy Who Lived. _If he can imitate a Slytherin, why was it so unlikely that he would beg like one…?_

_Damn it, you're a fucking Malfoy! You never wonder about things when you could find out the answer! _Draco looked at Harry again, who wet his lips before he retorted. Draco's eyes followed the tongue's path across plump lips.

_Just do it._ He took a step closer to Harry, who had begun speaking. Draco tried to focus on what he was saying, but he was stood under a foot away, and most of his thoughts were directed on what he planned to do.

"…whatever it takes to get it out of your system, Malfoy, I guess. Just do what you want and then maybe we could leave each other alone?"

"Now there's a smart suggestion, Potter, if ever I heard one slip from your lips." He was only inches away, and instead of showing fear, Potter looked resigned.

_No fear when facing the unknown, eh? I should have expected no less, but I wonder if he would be afraid if he knew I was going to do this…_

"So, Malfoy, are you going to- Umph!" Harry's question was cut off, or answered, by a pair of lips crashing down on his own. His first instinct was to push Draco away, to get his lips away from Harry's, but then Draco bit him.

The initial feel of Harry's lips against his own was not bad. The lips themselves were full, pouty and readily kissable, despite their chapped state from Harry's constant gnawing on them. But what followed was a hell of a lot better.

Feeling that Harry had been ready to resist, Draco decided to finally test his theory. He opened his mouth and caught Harry's bottom lip between his teeth. Harry gasped softly, his breath expelling into Draco's mouth and empowering him. Any resistance died with that sigh.

Delighted, Draco bit gently before sweeping his tongue over the damaged skin, and he felt Harry begin to melt against him. He grabbed Harry's wrists in one hand and secured them behind his back, pulling up the other hand to tangle in the mass of knots at the back of Harry's head. Past trysts or not, Harry was his now, and he was going to prove it!

Placing one last soft kiss on Harry's lips, Draco yanked the hair he had carded his fingers through, exposing Harry's throat to him as it drew a groan from the half-sated lips. Draco smirked as he lowered himself to the pale skin he had exposed. He had been right; Harry was getting off on this. But to prove it, and to mark Harry as his own…

Pressing a flat tongue against Harry's pulse point, Draco wet the area before placing an opened mouthed kiss on it. Harry's deceptive Slytherin eyes fluttered closed, and Draco was encouraged.

He scraped his teeth lightly over the surface at first, testing the boundaries. A whimper from Harry told him he could take it further, so he did, biting lightly at the skin.

"Oh, Merlin, please, more!" Harry called out, suddenly vocal at the increase of contact.

Draco chuckled onto the damp skin, and this drew another whimper. Deciding to actually follow Harry's instructions, though only because that had been his intention to, anyway, and not because Harry Potter of all people had told him to, Draco bit harder.

The stream of expletives he was greeted with shocked him, such dirty words dropping from that pretty mouth. He pulled back to watch in amazement as Harry's cheeks flushed and his lips mouthed words that Draco could no longer hear. Oh, he had definitely gained the upper hand now! He would rub his hands together in glee, if they weren't already occupied.

"No, please… I- Just don't stop," the begging Draco had imagined unbidden before was tumbling from that pink tongue, and Draco suddenly wanted to taste it.

He sucked it into his mouth, teeth tugging at the edges to gain more of those soft sighs for him to swallow. He swallowed harsh groans instead, but was not much disappointed. He pulled back, whispering against Harry's lips, "I wasn't planning on stopping, I just wanted to see how turned on you were when I hurt you." With the last word, he pulled hard on Harry's hair where his hand was still entangled, and drew a sharp intake of breath.

Not yet beaten, Harry was coherent enough to respond to that. He thrust his hips forward, his erection pressing into Draco's thigh in a way that couldn't be ignored. "That answer your question?" he panted.

Shocked, Draco pulled further back, maintaining his hold on Harry's wrists, but releasing his hair. Harry's eyes turned up, piercing his own and ordering him not to stop yet. Eyeing Harry's neck again, and feeling his own cock hardening in response to Harry's being thrust so close to it, Draco had no desire to disobey.

One hand now free, he closed it around Harry's arse, squeezing and massaging the one thing he had always spotted on the Quidditch pitch as he failed to catch up with Harry speeding after the actual prize. Grinning that, for once, he had his hand around his prize, Draco lowered his mouth once more, this time determined to leave more than a few teeth marks.

Latching his mouth onto the joint between Harry's shoulder and neck, using his nose to nuzzle the shirt out of his way, Draco bit down hard. He could feel the flesh bunching and breaking beneath the force, and Harry was suddenly jerking erratically against him, rubbing his erection in all the right ways. Draco's own breathing began to speed up to match the pace of Harry's, but it stopped altogether when he tasted blood in his mouth. _Harry's _blood in his mouth. And as he licked it away, he felt Harry tense suddenly, his muscles spasming as the pain brought him over the edge.

Harry's come, warm and wet, spread towards Draco's straining arousal, seeping through his clothes until he could almost feel it against his own erection. Simultaneously, Draco could taste the metallic, and slightly spicy, flavour of Harry's blood. Overloaded with these new sensations, Draco rubbed frantically against Harry for a few seconds before freezing in orgasm himself, riding it out until if left him fatigued yet satisfied.

Leaning against each other for support, both relying quite heavily on the teacher's desk Harry had been leaning on, it took a few moments for them to pass the post-coital haze and regain the ability to move. Unwilling to leave each other's presence just yet, they spoke against each other's lips, foreheads resting together.

"I guess I know what you intended now," Harry grinned impishly, a slightly embarrassed flush reddening his cheeks and causing him to glance away.

"I guess you do," Draco smirked, but he was too sated now to tease Harry over his innocence. "Harry," he began, but Harry's eyes snapped to his so quickly that he cut himself off. He allowed his eyes to question Harry's reflex.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his cheeks darkening further. "I'm not used to hearing you say that. Surprised me, that's all."

Draco smiled at Harry, kissing him gently on the nose. Harry turned his eyes up to meet Draco's then, their wide green disconcerting this close, even through the slightly crooked glasses. "I like calling you Harry. It's certainly better than Potter to cry out, should I be doing so."

Smiling sweetly at this, Harry nodded. "You're right, for once, Draco." The thinly veiled insult was ignored as Draco's silver eyes softened to dove grey at the casual use of his first name.

They lapsed into a companionable silence, enjoying each other's warmth and the warmth of random thoughts flitting rapidly through their minds.

"I guess that answered my question anyway," Draco mused, finally disentangling himself from Harry reluctantly.

"What question?" Harry asked, wondering just what the blond had been thinking when he started this onslaught on Harry.

"You are a masochist!" He cried triumphantly, his grin spreading at his victory. Harry did not seem quite as elated.

"Oh, I see," he intoned, his voice suddenly devoid of inflection. Draco looked at him, concerned by this sudden change in demeanour, and Harry sighed, running his now freed hands over his face in agitation similar to that he had shown earlier that evening.

"What's up, Harry?" Draco asked the same question again, this time using Harry's given name, drawing a flinch from the smaller boy.

Suddenly, vivid green eyes looked up, and Draco gulped, understanding just how people could think this slip of a boy before him, effeminate in features, could possibly be powerful enough to save the world.

"Well done, Malfoy, such an astute observation. Now if you could kindly step aside, I believe our business here is done." His harsh voice was terrifying, the ferocity in his eyes daring Draco to argue on pain of death. Draco was not a masochist, but he couldn't help arguing.

"I don't," Draco retorted flatly, catching Harry's hand as he stepped towards the door. "Just what's changed in the past few seconds to make you call me Malfoy again?"

"Nothing's changed, that's just the problem," Harry exclaimed, his hand unconsciously tightening around Draco's. "You're still Draco Malfoy, and I'm Harry Potter and nothing's changed! We only kissed to test some damn theory of yours and now we're back to how we always were." His voice, though shouting and clearly angry, rang hurt as well, soaking through Draco's skin and injecting him with guilt.

"Oh, Harry! Don't you know how we always were?" Draco cried, exasperated. "Have you not stopped to think that the reason I could never leave you alone was because I wanted to do _that, _what we just did?"

"For all this time?" Harry whispered, suddenly afraid he would be proved wrong just as he began to hope that Draco might be telling the truth.

"Yes, all this time," Draco replied, kissing Harry softly to prove his point, and partially just because he could.

Suddenly, Harry burst out laughing, just as Draco had been preparing to slip his tongue past Harry's lips. Incredibly perturbed, he huffed slightly.

"And what, might I ask, is so amusing?" he sniffed, watching as Harry's tension rolled out of him in the form of girlish giggles. Admitting to himself that the sight was quite amusing, Draco allowed the corners of his lips to quirk, but he would not join Harry in his tasteless hysterics, because it was beyond him what was even funny.

"It's just that… that all this time you've been pulling my pigtails!" Harry choked out, calming at last.

"Pulling your what, Harry?" Draco asked, shocked. Pigtails were an unsightly hair style on girls, and Draco could not imagine that the hair he had tugged earlier had ever succumbed to such a thing.

"It's a proverb or something, like… you know when a little boy likes a girl, and he's always picking on her so that she'll notice him? That's what you've been doing to me, but with hexes and stuff!" Harry started laughing again, and Draco could see the humour in the situation.

"That makes you the girl in this relationship, Potter!" Draco called out, chuckling along with the joke.

Harry stopped abruptly. "This relationship? Do you think… Do you think we have a relationship now?" If it wasn't for that hopeful look in Harry's eyes. Draco might have been insulted by the question. After what they had just done, of course they had a relationship! Draco was not any sort of slut, thank you very much.

"Yes, Harry, we have a relationship. In fact, we might just be boyfriends!" He slipped his lips into a half smile to soften the slightly admonishing tone.

"I… well, wow! I never would have… no one would have, I just-" For a second time that evening, Harry's words were drowned in Draco's lips, and this time he didn't even think of stopping it. He buried his hands in the silky strands of blond hair he had always wanted to feel, and finally kissed back with force.

Staggered, Draco pulled away, smiling down at his new boyfriend. "Sleep well, Pigtails," he whispered, kissing Harry very softly and receiving an equally soft kiss in return.

"This changes nothing," he added as Harry picked up his robe and turned to leave.

"I know, it just means that everything's the same but we understand it now," Harry smiled. Nodding, Draco bade him goodnight again with another kiss (he would never get over being able to do that) before watching Harry walk slowly down the corridor away from him.

Whispering a string of Latin words quietly as he turned his back on Harry, he suppressed a grin. Life was undoubtedly serving him well today. He had a beautiful new boyfriend who quite possibly understood him exactly, and said boyfriend was about to turn up to Gryffindor Tower in a girl's school uniform, his black hair magically tied with pink ribbons on either side of his head.

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_To be continued..._

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	2. Sleeping Lions

**Disclaimer: **The following is a work of fiction created by and for readers of the Harry Potter books. No copyright or trademark infringement was intended, and all of the characters, situations et c. belong to, though aren't limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc, as well as being the original fiction work of J. K. Rowling.

**A/N: **The second and penultimate chapter of Pulling Pigtails is dedicated to all those who have thus far reviewed the first; you are truly appreciated for you comments and encouragement, each and every one of you. A special dedication goes to those named below for adding the story to their favourites list:

-James's Fire;

-Kelly82;

-PandaBearGlare;

-sweetlyevel;

This was the most encouraging of all, knowing that without being finished Pulling Pigtails had such gained your favour, and thusly the below is dedicated to you four especially. Now, without further ado, I present Chapter Two...

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_Chapter Two_

**Sleeping Lions**

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"Pumpkin," Harry prompted, sighing in relief as the Fat Lady swung open, quelling the irritating giggles she had burst into upon his arrival in her sight range. Once safely ensconced in his common room, Harry shouted out to Ron and Hermione, intending to join them in their seat by the fire and wishing to first announce his arrival. 

Several students looked up at his shouts, and became frozen as they took in Harry's appearance. The sudden calcified presence of their friends caused many others to look up, and soon every Gryffindor in the common room had their eyes drilling into Harry, who stood by the entrance still, looking quite terrified of the reaction he had garnered with his mere presence.

It took several moments for the ice to melt, and when the atmosphere defrosted, permitting everyone to move again, raucous laughter broke out, becoming booming in its intensity and blowing Harry back so that he stood flat against the wall, looking as though Voldemort was approaching him with an offering of flowers. Somewhere from the back of the room, a flash went off, but Harry did not register it in the face of such a reaction.

Hermione was the first one to calm down enough to speak, and choked out in a strained voice disrupted by giggles, "Harry, do you know what you are wearing?"

Harry slowly shook his head in response, glancing down at his uniform briefly, before double taking and staring in shock at the blouse and skirt he now had on under his open robes, completed with knee high white socks and girls' plimsolls. His own laughter broke out, and soon, everyone was hysterical with humour, as they realised that Harry had somehow made it to Gryffindor Tower dressed like that without noticing.

It was a full ten minutes before everyone's laughter finally trailed off, Harry still grinning as he marvelled over how he had felt a strange coldness around his legs soon after leaving Draco, but had been too distracted to really pay it much attention.

He brought one hand up to run through his hair, a habit that always kicked in when he realised that he was the centre of everyone's attention, when he felt two stubby lumps of hair protruding from either side of his hair with silk ribbons holding them in place. He burst out laughing once more, exhaling the word "Pigtails!" in such a way that the other students could sense that there was something more to Harry's strange attire than simply that it should be a girl's. They indulged his joviality with parental smiles, many of them glad to see him laughing again following the bereavement that had marred his sense of humour since before the summer.

As Hermione and Ron approached him, taking him by the elbow to the seats by the fire, Harry slowed to a deep chuckle before finally stopping laughing altogether. He sat down carefully, unsure just how much of his clothing had been transfigured and unwilling to find out by flashing the Gryffindors what might be knickers rather than boxers.

"What happened, mate?" Ron asked, his eyes dancing across the pleated skirt in question as he awaited Harry's answer.

"I don't really know," replied Harry, bemused still, yet loving the whole joke, even if it had been played on him. "I have a strong suspicion, though, and it's blond and Slytherin." He gave Ron a sly grin, but it was Hermione who read the implication first, and she smirked at him.

"That's quite an educated guess, Harry. May I ask just why Malfoy would want to dress you up as a girl?" At the word 'Malfoy', both Harry and Ron winced slightly. Ron was wincing out of habit, as he was prone to do when reminded of his family's rival; Harry winced out of remembrance that Draco was not Draco to his friends, nor was it likely that he ever would be. The seriousness of what he had involved himself in settled like concrete in his stomach, and Harry lowered his eyes to stare at his folded hands in his lap.

"Malfoy did this to you!" Ron exclaimed, ensuring the interest of the surrounding students once more with his loud voice.

"I suspect," Harry replied, a slight smile gracing his face as he raised his eyes to look at his friends once more. "But not to worry, I'm quite capable of seeking revenge!"

Both Ron and Hermione laughed at this, though Ron took it seriously and began listing ways of hexing Draco while Hermione watched with slight disapproval, pursing her lips as he suggested particularly nasty curses. Harry simply sat back and allowed their involvement to wash over him, instead focusing on the memory of Draco's smile and gradually comprehending that he had a boyfriend.

Later, as all of the boys changed for bed, Harry discovered that Draco had been very thorough indeed with his transfiguration, successfully changing Harry's red cotton boxers into a pair of green frilly knickers with a silver lacy trim. His dorm mates found this absolutely hilarious, to the extent of pointing quite obviously and commenting. Harry found that he was glad of the knickers, for they drew attention away from the two bites at his neck, one shallow and one still hidden under flecks of drying blood, and both blatantly a result of a heavy snog session. Climbing into bed, Harry wondered what Draco would make of the rumours tomorrow morning at breakfast, and contemplated just how he would get his revenge.

-x-

x-X-x

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On arriving in the Great Hall the next morning, sleepily rubbing his eyes and trailing to the table where all the Gryffindors were already seated, Harry found that his worries about rumours darting across the hall from a network of gossips did not appear to be unfounded.

Upon sitting himself in his usual seat and allowing his eyes free reign of their surroundings, Harry found that, once again, every pair of eyes in the room was settled on him. However, the Great Hall was quite a bit bigger than the Gryffindor common room, and it was consequently quite a bit more disconcerting to find yourself in everyone's focus. With a glance at the table at the head of the hall, Harry found himself breathing a sigh of relief that the teachers apparently knew nothing about what was going on.

Choosing to ignore the stares he was getting, Harry reached for a slice of toast, politely asking Hermione to pass him the butter as though he did not realise that everyone was still watching him. Hermione looked worriedly around the hall and spotted Draco Malfoy sauntering in and talking animatedly with his friends. She couldn't allow Harry to face him unprepared, and turned to whisper hurriedly to him.

"Harry," she called urgently under her breath, successfully gaining his attention. He looked at her owlishly over the top of his glasses, cocking his head to one side in curiosity.

Taking that as an indication to continue, Hermione spoke again, "Harry, everyone knows about-"

"I think I might have guessed that, Hermione," Harry interrupted shrewdly, a grin dancing across his features.

Gulping, Hermione attempted to explain. "I don't think you quite understand."

"What's not to understand? I got hexed to look like a girl, sort of, and now everyone's been told. I survived rumours before, Hermione, and this one's funny enough that even I can find it amusing."

Deciding to bite the bullet, Hermione took one long steadying breath and told him. "Harry, I think the rumours are the least of your worries. I think that what should really concern you is this," Hermione produced a small square of photo paper. "Apparently Colin had his camera last night and couldn't resist an opportunity like that."

Harry stared down in shock as he saw his photographic self standing at the portrait door, held tilted to one side and looking quite thoroughly bored. Every now and again, his hand reached down to smooth his skirt, but he seemed uninterested in the whole thing, as though he felt the photo he made up was somewhat unremarkable.

Unable to help himself, Harry burst out laughing. He had not known what to expect from Hermione's serious tone, but this photo was not it. He had been expecting bad news, and looking at himself standing comfortably in a skirt and blouse, hair battled into two pigtails tied with pink ribbon, his anxiety disappeared to be replaced with unadulterated amusement. His laughter released the Great Hall, causing the students who had stayed silent to feel free to giggle at the photo they saw and those who had stared to turn back to their meals.

On his way out of the hall after breakfast, Harry found himself face to face with Draco. _My boyfriend, _he thought with an excited thrill. Drawing himself up to his full height, which was still rather shorter than Draco's own height, Harry prepared himself for the onslaught that he was certain Draco would enjoy giving him, despite their new status.

Harry noticed that Draco was holding one of the photos which was circulating around the school, pinching it between two fingers and a thumb and occasionally examining it with keen eyes, comparing the image he was seeing to the boy stood in front of him.

"Do you know what, Potter?" he asked, his tone almost conversational as he grinned widely.

"I know many things, Malfoy, but something tells me that what you are about to say is something completely different." Harry spoke calmly and clearly, and a crowd began to gather around them, excited by the first exchange that the enemies had had since starting school.

Draco arched an eyebrow, as though he had not been expecting a retort. "Finally found your tongue, have you? Tell me it wasn't in the Weaslette's throat?" Draco had almost choked saying those words, but it had been worth it for Harry's expression.

Harry's face went first white, before pink splotches began to litter his cheeks. His composure was momentarily lost as he spluttered, "No! No it wasn't… in there, how-"

Draco interrupted smoothly, glad of the upper hand he was quickly gaining. "Of course it wasn't, what a question for me to ask! Considering the pictures I've seen of you this morning, it would be far more likely that you were kissing the Weasel at your left, now."

Harry turned to look at Ron before leaping back, as though burned by his friend's presence. "I don't, I mean… Ew! That's just… No, ew! Did you have to give me bloody images like that?" Harry was whining quite incessantly, and Draco was revelling in his triumph. Ron, for his part, looked as though he was torn between being as disgusted as Harry and being offended at Harry's reaction. His face being taken over by an unusual lopsided expression, he stepped out of the lime-light into the crowd circling them, removing focus from himself. Hermione wisely did the same before her name was brought up.

"Don't you think I know who did that to me?" Harry questioned, changing the subject. He gestured lazily at the picture in Draco's hand. Draco only smiled enigmatically. "I didn't know you were so keen to see me in a short skirt, Malfoy!"

Draco's smile dropped slightly, but he replied scathingly. "It wasn't really anything to do with the skirt; I was just hoping someone would finally do something with that hair of yours." The people watching swivelled their gazes to Harry, who was wearing a smile similar to Draco's. It flew even wider as he continued to speak.

"As I remember, it was your fault it was a mess last night," he replied calmly. Everyone assumed that they had simply been fighting, but Draco flushed slightly at the implication.

"It appears that I came out of it on top, though, didn't I?" Draco threw back, meaning anything that could be interpreted by that. Even the cleaner meaning; especially the cleaner meaning. He had won, after all.

"I suppose that's true, but it wasn't really a fair fight last night. You and I both know that I need lay barely a finger on you before I'd have you flat on your back and hardly breathing."

Draco's pale skin tinged pink as heat raised with those words, or more specifically, the images those words conjured. "Yeah, well, that's not how it was last night! You could barely stand by the time I'd finished with you." He hoped to distract himself, or at least throw the spotlight over to Harry while he composed himself.

"Nor could you, and I didn't really fight back," Harry spoke calmly, his eyebrow rising slightly.

"Be that as it may, I threw the last hex, and your blushing school girl routine here is the result of that." He had won; he had definitely won with that one. Nothing Harry could say would –

"If you look at the picture, I believe you will find that I'm not really blushing. Watch your back, though, Malfoy, because I'll have you blushing soon enough." And with that, Harry simply walked away. The crowd departed, disappointed that there hadn't really been a fight, their discussions turning to the possibilities of Harry's revenge. Draco stood shocked that he had somehow lost his upper-hand in that argument. He would have to ask Harry how that had happened when they were inevitably partnered in Potions just before dinner.

-x-

x-X-x

-x-

His disappointed frown carefully in place, Draco slunk over to where Harry was sitting, shooting lazy glares at Snape, who seemed unaffected by them. In fact, looking back at him, the greasy hair was framing a rather ecstatic face. Draco was suddenly and inexplicitly worried by that wide grin that deflected even open hate from his favourite student and godson.

Slumping back in his chair, Draco chanced a glance at Harry. It appeared that Harry had also noticed Snape's blatant glee and was frowning in concentration as he contemplated the meaning of it. Draco saw his teeth nervously pull at the corner of his lower lip and delighted in the knowledge that he was allowed to bite that lip too. Demanding his attention avert back to Snape, Draco and the rest of the class soon found out just why that grin was in place.

"Today, we will be continuing to work on poisons and cures. One member of each partnership will make the poison; the other will make the cure. At the end of the lesson, we will test both potions on the maker of the poison and monitor the results. Obviously, we cannot do this with every pair, but I'm sure one experiment will suffice," his grinning gaze landed on Harry and Draco, and they both knew just who would be poisoned by the way Snape's eyes lingered on Harry, and his lips stretched further across his face.

"Instructions are on the board," and they were with a lazy flick of his wand. "You have one hour, you may begin."

Sighing, Harry began to set up his cauldron, lighting the fire below it manually as he used his wand to pour the required amount of water in it. He was calmly chopping the dried vegetation mentioned on the board, ignoring the blonde next to him, even when he heard an uncharacteristic snort come from him. He smirked, but otherwise refused to react to Draco, for fear of losing the upper hand he had gained at breakfast.

Draco was frowning at the instructions for the poison, recognizing them, but unsure just what they led to. He began setting up his own cauldron, but even as he prepared his own ingredients he found his eyes straying unbidden to the others set of instructions. Just what exactly did Snape intend to do to Harry? Draco snorted; whatever it was is was sure not to be pleasant. He cast a sidelong look at Harry, seeing him smirk into his potion. Draco noticed that he appeared to have finished the base of his potion, moving on to the more active ingredients. Worried, Draco quickened his pace, hoping to match that of Harry to ensure that the poison, whatever it was, would not cause him too much harm before Draco could cure him.

His own base prepared, Draco began to break up the bezoar, which was the main ingredient for many cures. Having stirred the potion until it gave off a pale blue smoke Draco allowed his attention to turn back to Harry. His potion was done, so he was ready for whatever nastiness Snape had decided to poison his boyfriend with. _Merlin forbid it's anything that'll postpone our meeting tonight,_ Draco wondered, managing to school his features so that he did not appear overly worried.

"Potter, just how did you manage to turn our little meeting around so quickly this morning?" Draco queried, watching Harry powder the roots of an asphodel plant slowly and deliberately.

Smiling enigmatically, Harry's lips parted slowly to allow his answer to pass. Draco watched in fascination, fighting the urge to take advantage of the open lips. "I turned nothing around, Malfoy, you were never winning."

"Hmm," Draco pondered, as though absorbing this information. "Perhaps. I am wondering how much truth there is in what you said, though." Although his inflection implied a statement, it was obvious that Draco wanted an answer.

"Said what?" Harry replied shortly, sprinkling his powdered roots into the red potion, watching in satisfaction as it turned the silver described, emitting a white mist that crawled its surface restlessly.

"Why, Potter, surely even you can figure it out. I wonder if you could truly have me flat on my back, hardly breathing, by laying a finger on me." Draco purred the words, watching a slight flush rise in Harry's cheeks with the same satisfaction with which Harry had observed his potion.

"We could always test it, if you think I'm lying. Same classroom, half eleven." The bluntness of Harry's words sent a shiver down Draco's spine as he nodded his agreement.

His thoughts slowly turned back to this classroom, and he speculated whether Harry would be capable of joining him tonight. Snape's voice informed the room that there time was up, and Draco panicked suddenly. He forced his breathing to slow down, convincing it with the notion that Snape enjoyed to tease all Gryffindors, so it might not be Harry that was poisoned.

"Potter, your potion seems sufficient. Drink one goblet." Snape sneered, glaring distastefully at the perfect colour of the potion. It had been increasingly often that Harry brewed well in his classes upon his return to sixth year, and Snape found himself annoyed that he could no longer fault the boy. At least he could poison him, he consoled himself.

Meeting Snape's eyes, Harry dipped a shallow wooden cup into the liquid, raising his drink in a toast to Snape before drinking it with closed eyes, his body tensing in anticipation.

Draco watched, horrified, and his eyes darted once more to the board. What had Harry added before the asphodel? What would happen to him that Draco would have to stop? Eyes darting frantically down the list of instructions, Draco found what he was looking for. _Wormwood._ What poison would powdered root of asphodel create if added to an infusion of wormwood?

Dawning settled itself on Draco's shocked face as he remembered his first Potions lesson so many years ago. Snape smirked as he recognised it, his lips thinning in impressed satisfaction as Harry slumped suddenly in his chair, his goblet empty. Eyes wild, Draco span to Harry, supporting him with one arm and feeling the body heat fade rapidly. He turned to Snape who appeared perfectly relaxed.

"Good, hold him a moment. Time is unimportant so I will take this opportunity to explain the potion uninterrupted." With this, several Slytherins laughed, and even a few of those from the other two houses smiled a little. The Gryffindors, and Draco, remained stony faced.

"As many of you should have guessed, I have had you make the Draught of Living Death, a potent sleeping potion that should never be experimented with outside of controlled conditions. Potter will remain as he is now, on the edge of life, until administered with the antidote.

"Although not technically a poison, the draught is considered harmful, and can be cured, as with most poisons, with a bezoar. As he is currently catatonic, the greatest problem faced by one wishing to rouse him," here Snape sneered, as though doubting the existence of such a person, before continuing, "would be discovering a way to administer the cure. A famous example of this potion in use has been twisted in Muggle fiction. The famous story of Romeo and Juliet involves the use of this potion to fake Juliet's death. Although the legend ends in tragedy, the reality is that Romeo coated his lips in the antidote, thus waking Juliet when he kissed her."

Snape sounded disgusted at such a romantic gesture. "Rest assured that you will not be required to repeat such an action if you can think of an alternative, Mister Malfoy," Snape intoned, causing a ripple of humour across the classroom. Only Draco refrained from laughing, worrying frantically as he tried to remember how to offer a cure to someone who was unconscious.

If he spread the potion on Harry's lips, then it would be instinct to lick it off. It would take a few tries to apply enough for the full dose, but it should work. He would need help, though.

"Granger, hold Potter whilst I do this," Draco barked. Shocked at having been addressed to help, Hermione came forward and rested Harry against herself, holding him upright fairly easily as he was around her own height and weight. She did not know what shocked her most: Draco calling her by her name, and having her help him instead of a friend, or that Draco had chosen to attempt to cure Harry at all.

Everyone watched in anticipation as Draco dipped his finger cautiously into his potion, coating it in the faintly blue paste. Smearing it across Harry's already blue lips, he watched in relief as a pink tongue flicked out to remove the liquid, swallowing it automatically as Draco reached a hand forward to gently massage Harry's throat.

Snape nodded his approval of this method, but went mostly ignored as Draco applied another two coatings. Perhaps one more coating and Harry should wake up. He deliberately stroked his finger across Harry's lips, almost too worried to be fully affected by the intimacy. Suddenly, Harry's tongue darted out prematurely, curling around Draco's finger and dragging it past his lips.

Draco's eyes widened, and he almost pulled back, when he felt the gentle sucking on his digit. Biting back a moan, Draco stilled entirely, fascinated as he felt Harry's tongue smoothly explore his finger, his teeth scraping the joints lightly and drawing rapid breaths from Draco's own lips.

Eventually, Harry pulled back, leaving Draco turned on and unaware of the audience. He leaned forwards to capture Harry's lips only to find narrowed green eyes opening at him. "Don't think this makes us even, Malfoy," Harry murmured quietly, bringing Draco back to reality and the class full of eyes watching him. He sneered half-heartedly, eyes watching keenly as he saw Harry pull himself up, thank Hermione for holding him and assuring her that he could hold himself now.

The class left the room as the bell sounded, excitedly talking about the events of the lesson as they made their way to dinner.

-x-

x-X-x

-x-

It was half-eleven, and Draco had been waiting eagerly for a full fifteen minutes. He had not expected Harry to arrive early; far from it, to tell the truth. However, he had been restless in the common room, and had needed to move. He hadn't really moved now for fifteen minutes, and he was once more feeling restless. He may not be late, but Harry had better hurry up before Draco did something foolish.

He began to contemplate rushing off to Gryffindor tower and asking if he could speak with Harry. He would certainly get a reaction, and it would teach Harry to be on time next time. He had just made it to the door when it was pulled open away from his fingertips. Harry stood, framed by the low light of the corridor, looking surprised at having found Draco only a foot away. Before he had fully recovered from the shock, Harry found himself dragged inside, the door slamming shut behind him before he was thrust up against it, the handle clawing at his back even as Draco began to claw at his clothes.

Harry found himself incapable of responding to this welcome, his mouth otherwise occupied by sharp teeth and a curious tongue. Unable to respond verbally, Harry found his hands talking for him, exploring Draco now that they were finally free to do so without first consulting Harry's brain. He found himself unwilling to protest as they slid into Draco's back pockets, caressing his arse through the material and drawing a low groan from Draco that fell directly into Harry's mouth.

Ripping himself away from Harry violently, Draco glared down at the melting boy in his arms. "I have been waiting for you," he complained, his voice low and stroking Harry's lips as it whispered over them.

"I'm not late," Harry replied, panting the words. He could feel a bruise forming at the small of his back where the door handle was biting into his skin, and his lips were tingling slightly from the vehemence of Draco's onslaught. He was too distracted to think of anything else to say.

Draco laughed, feeling Harry's growing erection from his position against him, and backed away abruptly, pulling a noise of frustration from Harry with him.

Sitting on the teacher's desk, Draco stared at Harry, an eyebrow quirked. "Well?" he asked, his tone displaying that he was decidedly unimpressed with Harry's performance.

Harry was unsure what exactly he was supposed to be performing, and simply slid down the door in disappointment at the sudden loss of stimulation. "Well, what?" he snapped impatiently, sprawling his legs out to lie comfortably in front of him.

"Just how do you plan to have me flat on my back, out of breath, while only laying a finger on me?" Draco responded, watching as dawning slid onto Harry's face, pushing his frown away.

"Oh, that. Um, I have a few ideas," Harry blustered. He had not thought of this, and was a little unsure as to whether he could achieve it. Watching Draco's eyes caress his face from ten feet away strengthened his resolve.

"Eloquently put, Potter, as always," Draco snickered. He saw something mar Harry's features at his words, and became concerned.

"Perhaps you would prefer me to hex you?" Harry asked coldly, his mood swung as Draco called him Potter. He had hoped for an amount of intimacy with this relationship.

"Merlin, no! Harry, why would I have you hex me when you can make me feel the way I've been feeling all day, just by sucking my finger like that in Potions?" Draco seemed so confused by Harry's sudden change of mood that he said exactly what he was thinking without censorship. Whatever he said appeared to have done the trick, though, because Harry was suddenly grinning again.

"Really? Just how have you been feeling?" apart from torturing Draco a little with what he knew to be unintentional honesty, Harry was genuinely curious.

"I don't know exactly, but it was enough to drive me to this room fifteen minutes early when I always make a point of arriving fashionably late, and enough to make me ambush you the moment I saw you," Draco retorted, scraping together the remains of his dignity.

"So you really want to be with me?" Harry asked, and suddenly Draco's irritation with his questions was lost. Harry was still sat on the floor, his legs spread out in front of him gracelessly and his face upturned to Draco's, eyes imploring him to answer.

"Of course, Harry. This may be sudden but it's not unwanted." His tone was softened, and he waited to hear Harry's soft response. Not quite.

"Fantastic! Then I'd better get to work, hadn't I?" Harry smirked. Draco was about to protest, not understanding what Harry was talking about, when Harry leant forward, removing his outer robes and his tie before sitting back comfortably in just his shirt and trousers. He toed off his shoes and socks, stretching languidly before setting his gaze back on Draco. Draco's attention had been caught as soon as he'd started to remove clothes, and Harry realised that his taunt from earlier might be easier done than he had reckoned.

His eyes closing to block out the audience, Harry began to enjoy himself, hoping the show would be enough for Draco. Remembering Draco's comment about the events in Potions, Harry pulled his lips apart forcefully, slipping two fingers in and teasing them mercilessly with his mouth to the extent of pulling a muffled groan from himself. The other hand began to lazily unbutton his shirt, parting it to reveal the toned chest beneath. He heard a stifled sound from Draco that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed groan and inwardly congratulated himself on a clever opening.

Releasing his wet fingers, Harry trailed them down past his chin, stroking the bite he found in the joint between his throat and shoulder, slowly dragging his nails across the darkened skin that showed where Draco had broke the surface the night before. He hissed as he scratched the surface with a rough nail, moving into the sharp pressure and cursing softly. He changed his focus, pulling his nail away from the bite mark and forcing a path to his hardened nipple, keeping the pressure and leaving a hot pink track in his wake.

Circling the nipple slowly, Harry heard Draco groan his own frustration across the room. Taking this as encouragement, he took the nipple between a finger and thumb and rolled it, first gently and then hard enough to pull a cry from him. He had almost forgotten the point of this show as he other hand rested on his lap, heavy on his growing erection. Only almost though, and opening his eyes, Harry stared right at Draco, who was sat on the desk still, his eyes wide, lips parted, and erection obvious.

His chest appeared to be barely moving, and Harry would have grinned at the achievement if it hadn't seemed that such a thing might ruin the mood he had built. Slowly standing as though to refrain from frightening Draco with sudden movements, Harry allowed the shirt to slide completely off him, leaving him half-naked before his boyfriend. Too determined to feel nervous or embarrassed, Harry stepped forward, his hips moving sensually as he walked. Standing in front of Draco, who had begun to suck in shallow breaths, Harry reached out one hand.

His finger, still slightly wet from its venture in Harry's mouth, trailed down Draco's cheek before landing suddenly in the centre of his chest. Harry applied a little pressure, urging Draco to lie backwards on the desk. When Draco complied, he found the finger had moved suddenly, and flicked his eyes questioningly at the suddenly grinning face of his boyfriend.

"What are you so giddy about?" Draco asked, annoyed that he need to pant out most of the words and so did not sound nearly as threatening as he had hoped.

"My victory, Draco," Harry replied, shifting forward so that his thighs brushed against Draco's shins, which dangled off the edge of the desk.

"Your victory?" queried Draco, attempting to sit up as his confusion drowned his lust.

"You, panting, flat on your back, unwilling or unable to fight back," Harry explained, triggering realisation in Draco, and a flush.

"Well, it seems you were right," Draco rushed, as though the words were hurting him. "Do you fancy seeing what I can do to you now?" At Harry's nod, Draco set to work getting a form of revenge, transforming Harry into a puddle at his feet as he reciprocated with a show of his own with far more audience participation. By the end of the night, both boys were sated, and Draco had completely forgotten about Harry's threat of revenge for dressing him as a girl.

Harry, on the other hand, had not forgotten, but intended to take advantage of Draco's ignorance to surprise him. Smirking slightly as a plan began to form in his mind, Harry almost missed the questioning gaze Draco shot him at his unusual expression. Not wanting to give himself away, Harry diverted Draco's attention by sidling forward and whispering intimately, "Thanks for saving me, Draco."

His words were rewarded with a short, hot kiss, and when they were released again, Harry's lips formed the words, "My hero," rousing a loud bout of laughter from both boys.

The threat of being found was remembered as prowling footsteps echoed from overhead, reminding them that Filch was still patrolling. Draco sighed, suggesting that they should go to bed. Nodding, Harry pulled away, turning to the door to sneak away.

Draco grabbed his arm as he creaked the door open, pulling him back into his arms and kissing him lightly on the top of the head. Giggling slightly, Harry pecked Draco on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Draco," Harry called softly, disappearing through the door.

"'Night, Pigtails," Draco replied automatically, causing Harry's grin to widen almost frighteningly. Thankfully his back was to Draco as he walked away, and therefore his boyfriend was unaware as an expression of first dawning, and then glee crossed Harry's features as he realised when to play his prank.

He could not wait until the Slytherin versus Hufflepuff match that weekend.

* * *

_-_

_To be continued..._

_-_

* * *


	3. The Naked Truth

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction created by and for readers of the Harry Potter books

**Disclaimer: **The following is a work of fiction created by and for readers of the Harry Potter books. No copyright or trademark infringement was intended, and all of the characters, situations et c. belong to, though aren't limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc, as well as being the original fiction work of J. K. Rowling.

**A/N: **I must offer my deepest apologies for the lateness of this chapter; the fates, apparently, were less than permitting, and my internet died the night before the last post was due. As it has only been resurrected today by the powers of the Internet Pixie who visited me earlier, I have taken this opportunity to post this now, before the fates realise what has happened and cut me off again. As before, this chapter is dedicated to all who reviewed, I thank you sincerely, and special thanks go to those who have added Pulling Pigtails to their favourites. Seventeen of you, in total, which is amazing! Because there are so many of you, I won't list you here, but I hope you all know how much I appreciate your encouragement and I hope you enjoy the end.

-

_Chapter Three_

**The Naked Truth**

-

The night before the match, Draco abruptly cut their meeting short just half an hour into it.

"I will need to be well rested so I can play my best," Draco announced haughtily, glaring as Harry began to laugh and kiss his nose playfully.

"Is that why you could never beat me? Because you were up the night before, 'not resting'?" Harry questioned, placing his hands on his hips and forcing his voice to sound at least half-reprimanding, even as he held back another fit of giggles. He would not giggle again; it was just not proper decorum for a boy to be prone to the giggles.

"And if it was?" Draco asked slyly, shifting back to rest against the wall. He arched a brow as Harry's expression dropped the sense of concentration on the containment of his giggles.

"If it was then you have no reason to lose tomorrow's match, meaning that if you do, you had another reason, aside from me, to be 'not resting'," Harry retorted, his voice growing dangerous.

"I should win," Draco said, placing his arms around Harry's waist and pulling him closer. "And not because this is the first tryst I've cut short, but because I'm not playing you."

"_Stay,_" Harry pleaded as Draco moved to pull away, but the word came out as a faint hiss, causing Draco to lock eyes with him almost desperately. Harry was about to apologise for his slip into Parseltongue, when Draco suddenly pounced forward and captured his lips in a hot kiss. Even as Harry pulled back to breathe, he was not freed of the assault, finding his neck had fallen victim instead.

"Say more, Harry, please," Draco begged, grinding slightly into Harry's hips. Grinning at the sudden turn of events, Harry happily obliged, hissing nothings into Draco's ear and delighting in the complete lack of resistance his boyfriend now put up.

Reversing their roles, Harry found himself devastating Draco's pulse point, allowing the vibrations of his sibilant tones to massage the now sensitive skin. His hands roamed wildly, stroking and tugging as he laid claim to Draco's body.

"_Mine_," he hissed, teeth biting as hands slipped behind Draco and groped the familiar territory of his arse.

"Harry! You have to… You have to stop so I can go," Draco whined, his voice uncontrollably high.

"You don't want me to stop," Harry muttered against his skin, grazing it with his teeth and forcing a gasp of air from Draco's lips, which he moved to swallow.

Pulling away and breathing heavily, Draco struggled to retaliate. "You're right, I don't, but I do want to rest for my game tomorrow." He released a sigh of disappointed relief as Harry stepped back, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before sauntering across the room.

"Good luck with that, by the way. You know you have to win so we can play each other later, right?" Harry threw over his shoulder as he checked the corridors for safe passage.

"I know, and thanks, Harry," Draco responded quietly, causing Harry to throw him a brilliant smile before disappearing.

Fifteen minutes later, Draco was sneaking down to the dungeons, smiling goofily into the dark, as no one would witness him wearing such a degrading facial expression. Harry was already ensconced in his Gryffindor bed, contemplating the use of a certain charm to alter the colours and emblems on most fabrics, including towels.

Both boys fell asleep looking forward to the match the next day; one was looking forward to playing his first game that year, the other was excitedly anticipating the match's end.

-x-

x-X-x

-x-

The cheering in the stands had long since faded, Slytherin's win only echoing in their changing rooms with delighted whoops. The sound of thousands of pairs of feet slowly ascending the hill to the castle could be heard through the thin walls in the lull between giddy shouts, and it was soon obvious that the Quidditch stands had been emptied. Draco Malfoy was strutting up and down the aisles between benches, congratulating his teammates lazily and making no effort to begin changing, even as some were already ready to exit to the Great Hall for dinner.

Harry Potter lay in wait silently, masked by his invisibility cloak, and grinning at his accurate prediction of his boyfriend's reaction to his Quidditch win. It wasn't until the changing rooms had emptied completely, and Draco thought he was alone, that he began to strip his clothes to step into the shower. Resisting the urge to peek, because seeing Draco's naked body would likely disrupt his plan, Harry concentrated on locating Draco's locker, carefully completing his task before leaving behind his calling card and making his own way up to dinner.

Draco had heard nothing, and was happily singing in the shower about Slytherin's win, taking a further ten minutes to wash and condition his hair before he would even consider drying it. Stepping from under the stream of water, he shook the droplets from his hair, grabbing his wand and waving it over himself to remove the bulk of the moisture before turning to his clothing to redress himself. Upon seeing the contents of his locker, his eyes widened in shock, before narrowing angrily. Hands grabbing the calling card hastily, Draco muttered mutinously as he felt the blush that Harry had promised him making its way across his cheeks.

-x-

x-X-x

-x-

"Oh, come on, Harry! Give us a clue at least," whinged Ron, with a chorus of agreement amongst the table.

"You'll find out just what I did soon enough," Harry replied smugly, enjoying the shocked reactions of his friends.

"You've already done it?" questioned Seamus, a wide grin spreading across his face at Harry's nod.

"You haven't hurt him, have you?" Hermione asked, her tone slightly worried as she considered the consequences of such an action.

"No, he's not hurt. I might have damaged his pride a little, but nothing more than that," Harry assured her, grinning wildly at his own cleverness.

"Harry, I don't like that grin," Hermione admonished. "I want you to tell me –"

"Harry James Pigtails Potter!" screeched across the hall, echoing madly and pulling everyone's attention to the doors, which had swung open to admit the one person who hadn't made it to dinner yet.

"Does that tell you what you wanted to know?" Harry murmured quietly to Hermione, nodding at Draco, though he received only shocked silence in reply.

Draco Malfoy, victorious Seeker of the first Quidditch game this season, stood framed in the doorway, a beacon of flushed embarrassment that clashed with his only attire: a Gryffindor scarlet towel adorned with a prowling gold lion.

His bare feet pounded across the stone floor until he stood directly in front of where Harry was sat, separated from him by only a table. His hair was still slightly damp and clung to his pink cheeks as though trying to cool them. If this was the case, the effort was failing miserably.

The picture of serenity, Harry simply quirked an eyebrow at Draco. "Pigtails?" he queried calmly, despite knowing he had the attention of everyone in the hall, teachers included.

"Yes, 'Pigtails'," Draco spat. "It seemed a fitting nickname."

"It is rather fitting, I just wondered," Harry mused, tilting his head as though considering it.

"I – You… That's just not the point," Draco spluttered, outraged that he had slipped and publicly called Harry the name he had privately attached to him.

"It isn't?" Harry asked innocently, his eyes growing wide as though realising something. "No, I suppose it isn't, really. Do continue, Draco."

Half of the students in the hall, who had been holding their breath for the exchange thus far, choked on hearing Harry address Draco so casually. Nobody seemed capable of reacting yet, waiting to see how events would play themselves out. Except Dumbledore, who had happily conjured some sherbet lemons and was sitting back to enjoy the show.

"You are the most… I mean, how you can just sit there… Unbelievable…" Draco incoherently continued his rant. His heart was thundering as he stared at Harry, who was smiling at him as though this was a normal exchange between friends. Draco attempted to rein in some control again, taking a huge shaking breath before continuing.

"Potter, where have you put my clothes?" he asked dangerously, his eyes narrowing as though to emphasise just how serious the situation was. If Harry had attempted to reply, it would have been drowned in that moment.

As though Draco's question had been what had informed them of just what was going on, a huge wave of realisation swept across the hall. As realisation set in, bouts of laughter exploded from every table, until eventually every student and a large proportion of the teachers were laughing at the ridiculous situation.

At the sudden outburst of noise, Draco achieved the frightened look of a rabbit with its ears pinned back. His frantic gaze settled on Snape, eyes appealing, but the appeal went unnoticed as the Potions master snorted in humour himself, struggling to fully maintain control in the giddy environment. He was distracted entirely from his godson's plea by the ongoing battle he was fighting with his lips, which where rebelling to form a smile that he would not permit. Desperate, Draco turned back to Harry, who was merely smiling smugly.

"Got you blushing," Harry mouthed, his smile softening at Draco's apparent embarrassment. He shook his fringe out of his eyes and allowed himself to assess Draco's body with a growing blush of his own.

He had not considered at any point when forming his plan that, as a result of many of their trysts, not only would Draco's body be on show, but also the marks he had left behind on it. Draco noticed Harry's stare, and glanced down to appraise the scratches and bite marks himself.

Quirking an eyebrow at Harry's growing embarrassment, finally seeing a possibility for control, Draco turned slowly, presenting Harry with his back, which was covered in red welts, glancing over his shoulder to see how Harry reacted.

Harry's mouth had dropped open in surprise; he had had no idea just how violent he was, and being presented with a net of marks he had produced was a harsh way of telling him. Before he could even think of a response, Ron spoke up over the noise.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! It looks like you've been attacked by a wild animal!" At Ron's rather loud outburst, many of the students quietened once more to hear what would be said.

Still addressing Harry, Draco snorted, "Yeah, a lion would describe it."

Not willing to back down, Harry retorted, "It's better than snake bites, I suppose."

"Perhaps, Pigtails," Draco now took on the relaxed tone. "It is a shame that no one ever got 'round to fixing that hair of yours properly."

"I don't think pigtails were quite my style," Harry said dryly, watching warily as Draco pulled out his wand from who-knew-where beneath his towel.

"No, they weren't really. I'm sure I could come up with something a little better, given the chance," Draco replied smoothly, now twirling his wand thoughtfully and eyeing Harry's hair.

"Harry, we'd better go!" Hermione hissed, pulling his arm, but Harry shook his head, unwilling to back down.

"Knowing the hours you spend on your hair, primping and coiffing, I fear you'd be styling a full-length beard by the time you'd finished with my hair."

Draco looked for a moment as though he was going to respond verbally, but suddenly, he lifted his wand and shot out a spell at Harry. The silvery-green light danced momentarily with Harry's hair, before tugging it strongly, causing an unusual tension at the roots. When the light faded, Harry had the distinct impression that he would no longer like his hair, an impression induced by the horrified faces of everyone at the Gryffindor table.

Whatever Draco had done had lengthened his hair, so Harry could see a little of it out of the corner of his eye. What he could see was certainly not the black to which he had been accustomed. Instead, his hair was streaked green and silver. Shaking the longer fringe away from his face, Harry scrunched his nose in concentration before he retaliated with a gold and scarlet hex that whipped around Draco, replacing his towel with his robes.

Grinning, Draco assumed there must have been a mistake with the hex and turned away happily, calling out that he had won this round. Watching him stalk proudly out of the hall, giggles broke out again at his exit as people took in the words 'I Love Harry Potter' embroidered in glittered gold lettering on the back of his cloak, stark against the black background.

-x-

x-X-x

-x-

Harry wondered idly how long it would take Draco to realise the problem with his cloak. He had assumed that everyone in the great Hall sniggering quietly, including a great many of the Slytherins, would have clued his boyfriend in, but apparently it would take a while longer.

Relaxing back into his seat now that he was no longer anticipating attack, Harry continued eating his meal, a smug grin gracing his face between bites. Slowly everyone around him began to do the same, and eventually dinner was restarted.

Surprisingly, the teachers refrained from commenting, apparently deciding that the boys were competent in punishing each other. Or, in the case of the majority, just finding the situation too amusing to begin dishing out punishments. Dumbledore acted as though the entire show had been for his benefit, grinning merrily, chattering at the other teachers who were still in somewhat of a daze.

"Well, Harry, I'm glad you didn't do something dangerous, but you could still get in trouble –" Hermione began to reprimand Harry, but her voice was drowned by the burst of congratulations form the Gryffindor boys.

"That was bloody brilliant, Harry; I would never have thought of nicking his clothes!"

"Merlin, did you see his face when he stormed in? And he looked terrified when everyone started laughing, like he didn't know what laughter was!" Seamus snorted suddenly. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was true."

"The towel, mate; that was a beautiful touch! Attention to detail there, bloody fantastic!"

And on it went, all flying over Harry's head like a ducked Bludger as he munched on his shepherd's pie, mind wandering over the matter of Draco's cloak, and just when he would find out.

"What about your hair, Harry?" Hermione asked in concern, suddenly, eying the Slytherin coloured style falling down to Harry's shoulders.

"Um, I dunno, really," replied Harry unconcernedly. "It doesn't really bother me because I can't see it."

Hermione took this as an instruction and conjured a mirror, hovering it just in front of Harry's face. Sighing, Harry dropped his fork, looking up to examine his reflection.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed before he could help himself, causing those around him to stare at him in shock.

Ignoring them for a moment, Harry continued to appraise his hair, which still fell clumsily in tufts around his head, only now it reached his shoulders at the back, and his fringe fell over his eyes continually. The length looked good on him, but Harry could not help but find himself distracted by the colour.

Draco had somehow managed to change Harry's hair to the exact colour of his eyes from root to tip, with silver highlights shimmering as he moved his head. The overall effect was quite impressive, and Harry found himself liking it despite himself.

"What do you mean 'brilliant,' mate?" Ron said, head tilted in confusion as he tried to see what Harry could possibly like about his predicament.

"What? Don't you think the colour brings out my eyes?" Harry asked in mock hurt tones, pouting and fluttering his eyelashes as he flicked the fringe out of his face.

Grinning, Hermione spoke up, "I must admit that he was right when he said he would be able to fix your hair Harry. It's never suited you as much as it does now!"

"Of course I was right, Granger." No one at the Gryffindor table had noticed Draco's return, too busy laughing at Harry's antics to hear the dead silence that had fallen like a blanket over the hall at the sight of the blonde, who would likely be enraged. Now, they all turned to face him, laughter dying on their lips.

"So you appreciate your new style, do you, Potter?" Draco sneered, his tone light despite the harsh expression.

"Uh, yeah I do actually. Thanks," Harry grinned, shaking his hair out of his eyes again and actually managing to sound grateful.

Draco shook his head slightly at Harry's antics, fighting to keep his own grin from forming. "And here I was thinking I would have to come back and fix it to stop your little Gryffindor head from imploding from the nasty Slytherin colours," Draco patronised.

"Nope, it's fine," Harry replied happily. "How about you? Problem with the robes?" This was said with a little more caution. Harry almost winced as he awaited Draco's response, and was aware that everyone around him was also anticipating an explosion.

Draco raised an eyebrow, drawing out the tension as he slowly moved to unfasten his cloak, swinging it round so that he could look at the embroidered words. He allowed his hands to join his eyes in the inspection, and there was a thundering silence in the hall as everyone awaited his next word.

At the head table, Dumbledore was wondering how exactly one could extract a lemon drop from a paper bag without a rustling noise taking effect. He frowned lightly as an answer evaded him, before he performed a wordless charm to Silence the bag before moving to enjoy his sweets, his eyes once more refocused on the confrontation taking place amongst his students.

Further down the table, Snape was praying that the Slytherins would not be caused embarrassment by Draco's reaction. If he squealed like a girl, Snape might be forced to Obliviate the entire hall, and he was rather adverse to the effort involved in that idea.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, and was acutely aware that everyone in the room shuffled forward in their seats to get a better view; everyone except Harry that is, who had instead shuffled backwards so as to enhance the distance between himself and Draco. Smirking slightly at this reaction, Draco fixed Harry in his gaze, watching the boy wither further into his seat.

Finally growing slightly tired of milking the situation, Draco drawled his answer, "Actually, the quality of this embroidery is not too awful. I think I could live with it."

The shocked reaction, Draco found, was very amusing, and served well as a form of revenge on all those who laughed at him earlier. Harry looked confused and slightly frightened, as though he would love dearly to question Draco, but was terrified that such an investigation would leave him castrated. Shooting Harry a feral grin, Draco reminded his boyfriend that he had reasons for not wanting to aid him in becoming a eunuch, thus giving Harry the courage to voice his question.

"And the nature of the embroidery? The, um, choice of words doesn't bother you?" Harry said tentatively. He knew Draco was quite enjoying being the centre of attention, and was worried what the climax of the show might be. He was not to be disappointed either, he found.

"Well, it was a little crude, admittedly, darling, but I find that exposure to blatancy is one of the consequences of dating a Gryffindor. You were hardly subtle last night, so it was not much of a surprise. Fortunately, I am finding myself quite accustomed to your blatancy, and tricks like today's are quite worth it for the results I get later." Draco finished by leering at Harry rather suggestively, and Harry flushed such a shade of pink that a flamingo would feel ashamed of itself in his presence for failing to match.

The entire hall fell about laughing at the implications behind Draco's words, and their obvious effect on Harry. He could hear gasping comments to the strain of "Oh, good one, Malfoy! You and the Golden Boy!" and "Nearly had me going then! How preposterous that they might be together!" and the like.

Harry felt his face slowly cooling and was for the most part ignoring these comments, as well as the kissing faces Ron made in between bouts of laughter. Draco was not reacting in the same way. He found that he was growing irritated that no one believed what he had said, as well as feeling possessive as people eyed Harry appreciatively, imagining the situation Draco had described.

Leaning across the table, pushing through Granger and Weasley to do so, and thus hoping desperately for a shower, Draco grasped Harry's hands in his and pulled, somehow managing to get Harry on his side of the table without too much disruption. Everyone was still laughing at Draco's words, and Draco was certain he had a way to shut them up. Harry backed away from the predatory grin that beamed down on him, only to find an arm had snaked around his waist, the hand at the small of his back successfully preventing his escape. Staring up in fear at Draco, Harry scrunched his eyes shut, awaiting some blow or other.

His eyes started open as he felt familiar lips over his, before fluttering shut again, his own arms reaching up to wrap around Draco's shoulders as he eagerly returned the kiss.

The laughter in the Great Hall shrank to one, Dumbledore still chuckling merrily to himself as he observed the slack-jawed expression on most of his pupils, and a number of his faculty.

Harry was oblivious to anything except Draco's probing tongue, the sensation of it flickering over the sensitive roof of his mouth drawing a moan that was immediately swallowed, though not unheard by the others around him, such was the heavy quiet. Draco grinned into the kiss, and finally pulled back.

"I think I win this round, Pigtails," he murmured against wet lips, his explanation cut short as a tongue passed over his own lips, effectively quelling his desire to speak. As he leaned forward, however, Harry leaned back.

"I don't think so, _darling,_" Harry replied, and finally pulled completely away from Draco before turning his back and walking out of the hall. Draco pulled a face, confused at how Harry could possibly have construed that situation as a win on his part and following him out of the hall, his gold and scarlet hair bouncing with his movement, and capturing the attention of everyone in the hall, who were still too shocked to react.

"Really, it was quite lucky that he wasn't a Gryffindor," Dumbledore commented lazily. "Those really aren't his colours."

Following this pronouncement was an awed silence, split suddenly by the high-pitched squeal that Snape had dreaded.

"Harry, what in the name of Merlin's beard did you do to my _hair._"

-

_**The End**_

-


End file.
